


All We Need Is Faith

by Craggy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Destiel - Freeform, Human AU, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:03:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craggy/pseuds/Craggy
Summary: Sam Winchester is running from a painful past and a violent lover. After moving to a new city, he hopes to start a normal life.Meanwhile Dean Winchester is running from a broken heart, and a never forgotten love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello cuties, Craggy here, and I'm so nervous! This is my fist Supernatural ff, and the first one I write in English too, so please tell me if you notice any mistakes.  
> A big "Thank You" to the lovely Mor, my beta and dear friend as well as inspiration and voice of conscience.  
> Please read, review and eat a sandwich for me!  
> -C

 

 

_Whoever invented the sentence “New city, new life, new me!” probably had never had to move from their house._

This was everything Sam could think about while he was standing in front of the door of his new flat – if that set of chipped walls, dripping sinks and bad smell could be called _a flat._

Sighing resigned, the boy turned the light on (and he almost expected it to be broken, but luckily it worked) and started to take inside those few boxes that contained his entire life, more or less; it had been difficult to take such a drastic decision, to leave everything and everyone he loved for the unknown. He would have gladly avoided it, but there hadn’t been any other choice.

_Not after that break up._

The only thought of his ex and what he had done to him made Sam shiver, so he decided to start arranging his belongings to keep his mind busy.

 

At the end of that afternoon he had been able to adjust almost everything, so he decided to treat himself with a nice cup of coffee, after spending all day working. Dean had offered to come and help, but Sam knew that his brother was very busy with his work at the garage and he didn’t want him to lose a day of work; besides, Sam wasn’t sure that he was already able to face the glances of his friends and relatives, who knew how hard the last months had been for him and cared for his well being, but who were always looking for a sign of Sam’s sadness, his pain or who knows what, reminding the boy, reminding the boy _why_ he had felt that way in the first place.

The boy loved them all, and was sincerely grateful to Dean, Bobby, Jo and all the others for their concern: it was just … too soon.

 

A glance at the clock told him that it was six pm, and reminded him he didn’t have lunch because he was too busy with his stuff and, as he hadn’t had time to go grocery shopping, he decided to settle for a simple take away; he wasn’t worried about being new to the city, he had always been able to find food when he traveled across America with his father and Dean, in any dusty town in the middle of nowhere.

Sam grabbed his jacket – it was the beginning of January, after all – and glanced at those wall which seemed so foreign despite the furniture being exactly the one from his previous apartment.

 

_Soon,_ he thought.

_I’ll get used to this soon._

_Maybe._

 

While he was closing the door, his mobile rang: it was a text from Dean, asking him if he was already settled and if he had noticed _a super sexy neighbor, in which case Sam was gently invited to send pictures and possibly a phone number._

Smiling, Sam thought about the granny in the upper floor and the shrewish landlady, the only form of human life he noticed in that building. Sending their photos to Dean would have been funny, at least for the expression of total horror on his brother’s face.

Absorbed as he was with his phone, he didn’t noticed the guy and the girl who were coming up running and laughing: the result was a dreadful head-on with the shortest of the pair, who ended up on the ground while his friend gasped as if the boy had been run over by a truck.

 

Worried about hurting him, Sam hurried to offer him his hand to help him getting up, and as he did so he couldn’t help noticing the _golden hair, the color of the leaves in fall, and caramel eyes that seemed to pierce his soul._

And that, at the moment, seemed to want to kill him.

Sam seriously needed to stop reading love stories.

“Oh my gosh Gabe, are you alright?”. The girl’s voice aroused Sam from his very inappropriate thoughts and he approached the blond, who still was on the floor rubbing his shoulder.

Sam started apologizing sincerely: “I … sorry, my mind was somewhere else. I hope I didn’t hurt you”

“Yeah, whatever Gigantor. Maybe next time pay attention not to run over we common mortals, instead of sending texts that I’m sure were vital”, the other man answered testily.

 

Gabe ( _Gabriel?_ thought Sam) finally got up ignoring Sam’s hand, and with one last cold glance went on muttering something about people in that edifice, followed by the girl.

Sam kept staring at them even after they disappeared, in total disbelief for the rudeness shown by the blond man: alright, _he_ was the one who wasn’t paying attention, but he _did_ apologize! And it wasn’t like he knocked him over on purpose!

Hell, he even offered to _help that brat!_

Shaking his head, Sam got out of the building, looking for a fast food.

_The fact that_ the brat _was really, really cute wasn’t minimally relevant._

 

_*_

 

Eventually, Sam had to deal with the terrifying truth: there didn’t seem to be any kind of fast food anywhere near his new house, which made it even crappier.

Maybe that was the reason for the low rent (it actually was because of all of those college students who spent their days sleeping and their nights smoking, drinking and making noise. But Sam hadn’t had the chance to experience it in first person yet).

 

Sam was almost resigned to die of hunger, when he notices a store who looked a lot like a bakery: it had a big neon sign with a smiling muffin that said “Little Piece of Heaven”. It looked like a place haunted by teenagers who wanted to post vintage-y pictures of their food on social networks, but the boy was far too hungry for salty comments so he just decided to walk in, hoping for the store to be still open.

There actually was another costumer who grabbed his drink and walked out the door, almost running into Sam.

There wasn’t a lot of food out, probably because it was almost closing time, but still it was one of the most impressive exposure of donuts, muffin and candies Sam had ever seen: either the owner had a sweet tooth, or they just wanted to make every seven-years-old kid’s dream come true.

 

There were a few tables, and some of them were still dirt with paper mugs that some lazy costumer didn’t throw away, and Sam walked past them to get to the counter: here he was greeted by a smiling girl, visibly tired after what probably had been a stressful day of work.

“Hi, how can I help you?” she asked cheerfully; the tag on her apron said “Becky”.

“I … uhm … do you have anything without too much sugar?” Sam asked hesitant: he knew it was a stupid question, but hope is the last to die.

Becky didn’t seem to think the same, and she just nodded and disappeared in what must have been the kitchen; she came back after a few seconds, with something that looked like a chicken and cheese sandwich.

 

“You’re one of those freaks who eat healthy, aren’t you? You’re lucky, this was the last one, you can’t imagine how many people came in today, I mean it’s good for the business but they are always so _busy_ and you can’t even chat a bit with them, which I would totally like to, can you imagine how many interesting stories they could have? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before, and I surely wouldn’t forget your pretty face!”

Becky stopped talking (probably to breath) and looked at Sam expecting him to open up with her.

Sam wasn’t really in the right mood, but he was too polite to ignore the girl’s attempt of conversation: she probably had to deal all the day with people complaining about the slow service, teenagers ordering just a small coffee and occupying half of the store, and with the general rudeness that people in retail have to face.

 

“I just moved in here, today actually, and I finished opening my boxes like one hour ago. I was too tired to cook some real food, so I thought to get some take away or something, but I don’t think there are any fast foods here”.

“You’re right, no fast foods nearby, but there’s a super cool pub just around the corner, it’s just amazing! They are also looking for waiters, so if you are new and you need a pat time job it could be useful, no?”

Now that he was thinking about it, Sam realized he actually had to find a job. Of course, he wasn’t stupid, he knew that he needed money to live, but it had seemed something far from the present: he still had some money, and Dean gave him something before Sam had left.

“That would be very helpful, thank you for telling me”

“Fantastic! Tonight the pub is closed, but if you go tomorrow morning it should be open. The owner’s name is Crowley, he looks like he could kill you but he’s actually a cinnamon bun, tell him I sent you and it’ll be fine” said the blonde, winking.

Not really sure of what _being a cinnamon bun_ meant, the boy just smiled again at Becky.

 

“Sorry, I’m afraid I really need to close, but if you need something here’s my number. Oh, the pub’s name is _Crossroad,_ you won’t miss it” Becky said, giving Sam a paper tissue with her mobile number and the address and name of the place.

Thanking her again for the free sandwich (“Just take it, I was gonna throw it anyway”) and the information, Sam got out of the bakery to go back home, staring absently at the paper tissue in his hands, still didn’t believing the conversation he just had.

_Weird girl,_ he thought.

_But very nice._

And more useful than she thought, probably.

 

*

 

The following morning, Sam woke up pretty early.

He felt disoriented for a few seconds, then he remembered he wasn’t in his old house with _him_ , he was safe now, he didn’t have to worry.

Scratching his face and trying to give a shape to his hair (which at the moment looked a lot like a nest) the boy finally got up and went to the bathroom.

More than a real bathroom, though, it was an impressive mix of _stuff_ : the sink was basically in front of the toilet, while the shower was made by a sort of _phone box_ with a plastic towel. When the water wasn’t of a suspicious shade of brown, it was almost always ice cold, and Sam’s attempt to open hot water resulted with the tap in Sam’s hands.

Not that the rest of the flat was better: even after Sam’s efforts to make it look like home, the comfy red sofa and the pretty curtains couldn’t hide how shabby the place was.

 

After a brief shower, Sam felt a mote of gratitude for Becky: if he had made it to get the job, ha would have sent her a fruit basket or something like that, with a big pink ribbon on it and a glitter _Thank You_ card.

He took one of the many flannels he had, a pair of jeans and after dressing up he had just the time for a cup of coffee: he took a sip and he had to repress a retch. _Disgusting._

_He probably would have needed a yearly subscription to that bakery._

 

Once out of the door his phone rang, and after making sure that there wasn’t any attractive short guy he could run into on the stairs, Sam answered: it was Dean, who wanted to know how his little brother’s first night _all by himself_ went. After the usual exchange of jokes, Dean’s voice became more serious.

“You know that if you need something – _anything-_ you can call me, right Sammy? And if for some reason I can’t make it, Cas would be there before you can say _pie._ ”

“Oh, so you and Cas are talking to each other now? You’ll need to give me some more details, last time we met you couldn’t even stay in the same room together”

“We talk only when it’s something important Sammy, and you are one of these things. One of the few, actually. I’m not even sure where Cas lives now, but I think his number is the same”

 

There were those few seconds of silence where Sam was sure that his big brother had gone back to high school, when Dean and Castiel were together and _happy._

Dean surely remembered how it had been love at first sight with his brother’s weird friend, how perfect the life had seemed at that time, and how much it hurt when one afternoon, coming back from school, Sam simply told him that Castiel was gone. Dean had always hated chick-flick moments and melodramatic scenes, but that day of many years before he swore he felt something breaking inside of him; he had just stood there for what seemed ages, in disbelief.

Then, rage arrived. That night the Winchesters’ house was shaken by furious shouts. _How did that … that stupid kid dare to leave him like that? Like what they had meant nothing? That selfish son of a bitch, didn’t he think about him too? He didn’t even said goodbye, not that Dean would want to see him ever again._

And then, once the rage was gone, it came sadness.

Dean finally called Castiel demanding answers. The other boy just told him that his family had to move due to his father’s job, and he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it: they were just a couple hours away and, as that Summer they both would have finished school, they were free to make plans and decide about their future.

_Their_ future. Dean found himself tasting how sweet and comforting it sounded, thinking about a future where he and Cas were together.

He counted the weeks, days, hours and minutes that separated them.

Then Summer came, and Cas had to leave for Europe with his family so, as he had said to Dean on the phone, they wouldn’t be able to meet and it would have been better for everyone if they just took different ways.

 

It was hard for Dean.

He barely ate, or slept, or _spoke,_ for weeks.

Sam was thinking to call Bobby, their adoptive father, when his brother finally got out of his room: he had clearly cried, and his clothes smelled of alcohol, but there was no sign of doubt in his voice when he told Sam that _he was done with Castiel Novak forever._

And he kept his word: Castiel and Dean had met for the first time after years when they both went to the hospital to visit Sam, _that night_ of what seemed ages ago but was actually just a few months away.

Dean’s glare was ice cold, but for Sammy’s sake he hadn’t said anything. During the rare times the two had to meet after that, they just ignored each other. Sam thought it was wrong, but it was far more easy then trying to fix a broken heart.

 

It was sad, but it was life.

 

Emerging from his thoughts, Dean resumed to talk: “So please do tell me, did Sexy Sarah move next door? Should your big bro come to make sure her TV works?” he said, with the usual joking tone in his voice.

“No, sorry to shatter your dreams. By the way, chances are I’ll get a job, nothing big really, just a waiter, but it’s something isn’t it?”

“Sure, I mean, not as good as studying law but …”

“Dean, we already had this conversation. You know I couldn’t go to college again, it’s far and …”

“And you don’t want to come back here and blah blah blah. I know Sammy, I know, I understand. I’m just saying that you’re the smart one in the family, always have been, and I don’t like watching you abandon your dream. But, as you oh-so-kindly remind me at least twice a day, it’s your life and your choices. I better go, Bobby’s insulting a costumer again, just remember to call your old brother sometimes, ay?”

 

Dean would never stop worrying for Sam: even though his little brother wasn’t a child anymore and had to live through some bad shit, for him he would have always been the confused teenager who needed someone to guide him in the big scary world.

“I will, and tell me if there are any news!” replied Sam, slightly alluding to Castiel.

But Dean didn’t seem to understand that, or more probably just ignored the innuendo, and Sam could hear him muttering “As if …” before he ended the conversation.

 

After that, he was ready to find the way to what he hoped would have been his work place: he had looked at some reviews of the pub on internet, and it seemed like a very popular place where people with money went to be noticed by other people with money.

But life had tough Sam never to trust somebody else, so he really wanted to check in first person how the pub was, because even if he liked to think he was a boy who could adapt to almost anything, he really didn’t want to end up as an underpaid waiter in a bleak pub, with impossible shifts and no social life.

Of course, he started to think about the worst scenarios that could happen: _“What if a drunk man threaten me with a knife after ten glasses of whiskey? And what if he hurts me after a fight? If he cut my femoral artery I will have less than twenty seconds to say goodbye to life … I’m not ready to die, I didn’t even make a will!”_

Unconsciously the traits of the anonymous drunk started to take form in Sam’s mind, until the thought distracted him from that irrational fear to leave him with a cold, painful feeling in his stomach, while a scar non healed yet started to bleed in his heart.

 

_Luke._

 

“Oh no Mr Gigantor: I won’t let you smash me. _Again.”_

Few seconds must have passed since that voice neither totally estrange nor really familiar shook Sam from his trance he fell into. The boy looked down to see whose voice it was, and he found himself over that _Gabe_ (or was it Gary?) that he met on the stairs.

“Sorry, it really seems like my head is somewhere else these days” he said, almost forgetting how rude, until the night before, he had considered the blond man who was now standing next to him, staring with the most mischievous look on his face.

 

After a quick goodbye, Sam carried on in his quest to find the _Crossroad,_ and after asking a nice old lady for directions he finally found the place: a shining metal “X” stood on the door, probably to indicate the “cross” in “Crossroad”.

_What a strange name for a pub._

The inside looked like a modern art gallery: round black tables were shed in the big room that had dark red walls: every other piece of furniture was black, except for a big crystal chandelier which descended from the center of the ceiling.

A whole wall was used for the bar, and hundreds of different colored alcoholics were shown beside the long counter.

 

“We are closed until midnight, but I think I can make an exception for you”

A feminine voice caught Sam’s attention, and he turned around to see who was talking: an attractive girl with long dark hair was staring at him, arms crossed on her chest and a little smirk on her lips.

“I am actually here for the … uhm … job offer? Becky told me to come here, if it can help”

“Oh, so you met that psycho? I swear, sooner or later we will hear her name on the news. Anyway, Crowley’s office is upstairs, but he’s not there at the moment. Should arrive soon, though, even if I can’t understand why someone would want to work _here._ Oh, and thank you for asking, I’m Ruby”

“Sure, sorry, I’m Sam”

“Well, nice to meet you Sam. I’m afraid I’ll have to wait with you because I can’t leave you snooping around, nothing personal, house rules”.

 

The boy didn’t know what else to say and was already preparing himself for the embarrassed silence that would have followed, but Ruby started asking him the usual questions (where he was from, if he was still in school) and the tension quickly disappeared; there weren’t many people Sam was comfortable with, but apparently Ruby was one of those.

“So tell me, a pretty boy like you certainly has a girlfriend, am I right? A boyfriend, then? Neither? _Both?_ ” the girl suddenly asked, and Sam stared at her, not sure he had understood the question correctly.

“Classic, the hot ones are always taken. But hey, you can’t blame a girl for trying”

“No! I mean, I had a girlfriend but it didn’t end … well. And lately …”

Yes, _lately …_

 

_What?_

_His entire world collapsed on him?_

_He was so depressed that more than once Sam asked himself if it was really worth waking up the next morning?_

_What did exactly happen to him,_ lately?

 

Noticing Sam’s distraught expression, Ruby quickly gave him a friendly punch on his arm (she would have needed a chair to reach his shoulder).

“Well, if you want we could go out to grab a coffee or something one of these days. Who knows, maybe we are soul mates and everything that happened to us lead to this moment just to make us meet” and as she spoke she offered the boy a warm smile.

“Yeah, I’d really like to-“

“You are _incredible,_ Ruby. I leave you alone for _ten minutes_ and you start flirting with a costumer. I’m sorry if my employee bothered you, but it seems that the only thing she understands is pay cut”.

 

A middle-age man with a light British accent had come in: he wore an expensive black suit, and the only detail of color in his outfit was the bright red tie.

_Very appropriate._

“Don’t worry, she wasn’t bothering me. Actually, she was very helpful: I was looking for Mr. Crowley for that job offer, and she didn’t want to let me wander in the pub. Her boss should be glad of her sense of duty” and she winked at the girl, who muttered something that sounded like “ _Told you”_ in Crowley’s direction, before turning around and leaving.

Once alone Crowley (because he couldn’t be anybody else) Sam started to feel anxiety, that burning feeling in his stomach that he had often felt when he had to take a test, Dean wouldn’t answer his texts or _Luke_ was home drunk.

Besides, despite being taller than the other man, Sam felt _inferior:_ Crowley was so charming and impassive at the same time that he really was intimidating.

 

“So, do you really need a job or are you just desperate? Although I find desperate people easier to manipulate, they’re not what I would call reliable so, if you are just a druggie who needs money for the next dose, you can leave now” Crowley said and, even if his little smirk never left his lips, his eyes were ice cold.

“I need a job, sir, because bill won’t pay themselves and I don’t think robbery is an option for me. I can work on night shifts, I don’t get tired easily and this place actually looks like a nice place to work in”.

Sam spoke with sincerity: the place was clean, and even though it would probably have been very busy on night, it wasn’t one of those dirty clubs that were usually a cover for the traffic of drugs, women and dirty money.

“Are you really willing to take the nights? Ruby tends to be a bit … expansive with costumers that offer her drinks and Kevin is graduating so he needs his nights, so I could really use someone for that shift. I have to warn you, though, it will be hard: I don’t accept harassment, underage people or drugs in my pub, so it’s your job to keep everything straight. I can’t afford to lose credibility, so you will not be a simple waiter, I need you to be alert and ready to intervene if necessary. If something happens, you’re fired. If someone starts a fight, you’re fired. If you steal money from the counter, you’re fired and then dead. If you can accept these rules, the job is yours”.

 

_Whatever,_ he thought.

_It’s not like_ _something_ _could happen to me that I haven’t already been through._

 

“How they say, sir, _there ain’t no rest for the wicked._ When can I start?”

 

*

 

“Today was actually a good day Dean! I mean, I have job! I’m a real adult now!”

At the other end of the phone, Dean was laughing quietly.

“You sound like a teenager who has just been asked for prom, Sammy. But I’m happy for you, I’m sure every girls in the city will line up to be served by you and I’m afraid I’ll have to come to defend you from jealous boyfriends.”

“How thoughtful of you, Dee. I have to go now, I need a shower and I still have to make dinner, I finally found a superstore in this goddamn neighborhood so I did some grocery shopping. Oh, and if you hear from Cas please tell him to answer his phone”

“If he isn’t answering your calls, why would he answer mine?” replied the other Winchester after a few seconds of silence.

“He always does”

“Yeah, well, I’ll let you know. Goodnight, bitch”

“Jerk”

 

*

 

After a slightly warm shower and a quick dinner, Sam curled up on the sofa ready for pre-sleep zapping: he found trash TV shows relaxing, so he often watched some episode of Hell’s Kitchen or, if he was awake enough to follow the plot, NCIS, before going to bed.

He turned off the lights and pull a cover over himself, brightened only by the blue light of the television.

He was almost sleeping, while on the screen some unfortunate contestant didn’t cook the chicken enough, when a sudden noise woke him up: it sounded like someone was fighting at the other side of the corridor, and Sam could clearly hear choking sounds and bumps on the walls.

 

Pushed by his vigilante soul, the boy got up and silently walked out of his apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The noises seemed to come exactly from the flat in front of his own: he knocked at the door uncertainly, and while waiting for an answer he wondered what he could have done if there actually had been thieves in the flat. Or worse, maybe it was a fight between drug dealers, more than possible in that building.

As no one had come to open the door yet, Sam decided to knock louder, but from the inside he kept hearing strange sounds: he was sure there were at least two people inside, and so he decided it was one of those situation when it was licit to knock a door off.

 

His leg was already mid air, ready to hit the wood, when finally the door opened: Gabriel, heavy breathing, was glaring at him with a very pissed expression. The girl from the stairs was behind him, and neither of them seemed to have clothes on.


End file.
